Christmas Haste
By Aarav Kumar
Nylon creepers hang on the door,
Twinkling pine, wrapped gifts on the floor;
Gingerbread bakes slow.
Houses are aglow.
Trip- Bordeaux!
Gifts are core.
Shoppers sprint, gaudy cubes in hand.
Stuffed in the cupboard, these gifts grand.
The rich feast, and waste;
Others starve, ribs traced.
Christmas haste,
Made of sand.
By Aarav Kumar

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